


What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

by JurisfictionAgentNext



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JurisfictionAgentNext/pseuds/JurisfictionAgentNext
Summary: Everyone's talking about Simon and Bram. Including Simon and Bram. A series of conversations.





	What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to yekoc for being inspirationally good. I haven't written fic in a decade, but 'Post Script' was just that impressive. Also I'm not American and we never studied Raymond Carver at school, so thanks for the introduction. The title was feckin' perfection.

“He's very... white.”

 

Simon had just left after a meet-the-parent dinner with Bram and his mother.

 

“Is that an insult?” Bram asked, preparing to be offended.

 

“No, not at all. I really like him. It's just... surprising? That he's your type. That you even have a type. Sorry, I'm still adjusting.”

 

“It's okay. Still, you're 100% black and you _married_ a white guy. 50% white here, plus, you know, genetic predisposition. I probably get it from you.”

 

“An argument for everything”, his mother replied. “My son.” She looked proud.

 

Bram ducked his head. “It's not even about that. It's... I can't really explain. He's Simon. My Simon. My type is Simon, maybe? I've never really thought about another guy seriously. He's it.”

 

“ _That_ I am not surprised by.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, I made some assumptions about gender that I shouldn't have, but I've known since you were little that you were the type to find that _one_ person and that that person would be everything, to the exclusion of pretty much everyone else. You're made that way.”

 

Bram smiled, like the idea pleased him. “You think?”

 

“I do.” She leaned across the table to stroke his cheek fondly. “You're my sweet, studious, soulful boy with the big, romantic heart. You deserve this. Simon seems like a fundamentally kind person, and it is amusingly obvious that he has got it bad for you, Abraham. It makes me very happy to see it.”

 

“Thanks, Mom,” Bram replied, eyes suspiciously shiny. “I'm happy, too”

 

“Really, son? You hide it so well. I never would have guessed.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You're hilarious.” He hesitated. “Do you... do you think it'll last? With college and everything? We're so young. I do worry.”

 

She patted his hand reassuringly. “You know what, for reasons I cannot explain, I really, really do.”

 

His face was luminous. “Oh. Thanks.”

 

“But remember this.”

 

“What?”

 

“Every Time Including Oral.”

 

*******

 

“So. I thought we should talk. One on one. About all this.”

 

Leah had intercepted Bram in line for food at lunch and asked him to join her in a quiet corner of the cafeteria, away from their usual table. Nonplussed, he'd agreed, sharing a look with Simon as he followed her.

 

“All this? All this... gayness?” Bram asked archly.

 

Leah grinned. “Well, yeah. Everything is gay as fuck lately. I'm glad you noticed.”

 

“Oh, I noticed. It's fantastic.” Bram ate a fry. “Is this the intentions talk?”

 

“Sort of. Not really. I think your intentions are entirely honourable. But, Simon is my best friend and I love him. I plan to be his best friend for life. Like, he'd probably have to kill me himself and then burn my corpse to be absolutely sure I was I dead to put an end to our friendship, and even then I'd find a way to come back and haunt the shit out of him. So, there needs to be common ground between you and me. We need to get along, and we've never really talked.”

 

“True. And I agree. You're a big part of Simon's life. You helped make him who he is. Thanks, by the way. He's kind of the best. It'd be a bit disastrous if you didn't like me. I like you, by the way. Simon has excellent taste in friends.”

 

“Okay, this is going a lot better than I expected,” Leah stated. Bram just smiled. “I suppose what I really wanted to say was that I see, right? I see how happy Simon is and how much... lighter? Free he is since he came out and you two got together and I'm stoked, yeah? It's so great. 13/10. Keep up the good work.”

 

“Thanks. I try.” Bram stared at his hands. “I'll always try. For Simon.”

 

“I think you will. I suspect there isn't a lot you wouldn't do for Simon. Up to and including breaking the law.”

 

“I'd rather things didn't get illegal, but I'd do what needs to be done,” Bram joked.

 

“As it should be.”

 

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes.

 

“You know what?” Leah asked eventually.

 

“I do not know what. Please elaborate.”

 

“I don't say this lightly, so take it with the seriousness it deserves.”

 

“Okay...”

 

“I ship it.”

 

“Ship it?” Bram took a moment to catch on. “You ship us?”

 

“Yeah, I ship Bram and Simon. You're my new OTP.”

 

“Oh. You're lucky Simon gave me a crash course in Harry Potter fan fiction, or I'd have no idea what you're talking about. That's... nice?”

 

“It is.”

 

“Actually, now that I think about it, I'm into this,” Bram enthused. “Because I've been shipping me and Simon since freshman year. And I have to tell you, Leah, that it was damn lonely being the only person in the fandom. Now there's three of us!”

 

“Oh, it is clear that Simon is an appalling influence on you and I am here for it, Greenfeld. I'm shipping it hard.”

 

“As long as you're not shipping us into a M/M fic on AO3, I'm cool with that. Your support is appreciated.”

 

“Ugh. Fuck, no!” Leah looked horrified. “I can't even with imagining Simon doing, well, anything of that sort. Like, to me, Simon is an action figure of one of your favourite characters. Under his clothes there's just plastic underpants and a trademark.”

 

Bram cackled in delight. It was such an unexpected sight that Leah just stared. Bram was objectively very attractive, but he was so reserved he usually slipped under the radar. She was starting to see what Simon saw. And Simon was looking. Constantly. She could see him now, twisted around in his seat, practically wriggling with curiosity as to what they were talking about.

 

“You'd be surprised,” Bram said quietly, mostly to himself, a secret smile flitting across his face.

 

Leah blushed, but pretended not to have heard. She kind of liked that idea, though. That there was this whole other, private part of Simon that only Bram got to share. That was pretty special. Good for Simon. And good for Bram, apparently. But please, no details.

 

*******

 

“So, what do we think?”

 

Emily and Jack were settling into bed at the end of the day. Bram had joined them for dinner and then watched a film with them while curled up on the couch with Simon. It had been a pleasant evening. Bram was a sweetheart and good Lord was he gone on their son. It was lovely to watch.

 

“We think that we are lucky as hell that our darling boy met someone like Bram straight out of the gate. We think that we know Simon and that this could conceivably be it for him. We think that is wonderful. We are grateful,” Emily finished.

 

“I thought that was what we thought,” Jack replied. “I love it when you do the thinking for us.”

 

“Play to your strengths.” Emily turned out the light and snuggled down under the covers, rolling on her side to face Jack as he did the same.

 

“So where do we stand? What are we allowing in the house?”

 

“I'm not sure yet. What are you okay with?”

 

“Well, just being realistic,” Jack mused, “I think we probably just have to let it happen. Not straight away. In a few months, when they know each other better and it's obvious they're settled, I think if Bram's mom is onboard, then we say okay, Bram can stay.”

 

“Jack Spier, you're still capable of surprising me,” Emily said warmly, running her hand through his hair. “And I agree. It will probably take that long for Simon to work up the nerve to ask. But they should be allowed to be alone in the mean time. They're good kids and they're as informed as they can be. The thought of a constant battle trying to police them just exhausts me. And it would upset Simon. It's bad enough that he felt he had to keep such a huge part of himself a secret for so long. I don't want our attitude making him think that what feels good and right to him is wrong when it's not.”

 

“You're so smart. I love you.”

 

“Suck up. Come here and let's talk about us instead.”

 

*******

 

“Bram?”

 

In an unprecedented move, Garrett had paused the game mid ass-whupping.

 

“Yeah, man. What's up?”

 

“You know I'm real happy for you, right? And if you ever want to talk to me about Simon or anything, you can?”

 

Bram put down his controller then turned to face Garrett. “I do know that. You're an awesome friend, Garrett. I'll try not to get mushy on you, okay?”

 

“You know, I don't think I'd mind? Like, you and Simon have got something special and it's just cool to be involved, even by association.”

 

“Garrett.” Bram was getting a little choked up. “Stop being so evolved.”

 

“Sorry,” Garrett apologised with a grin. “Would you like me to douche it up to get things back to normal?”

 

“No, you're good,” Bram laughed. “Want me to tell you something about Simon?”

 

“Go for it.”

 

“I'm in love with him and I can totally see us married one day. Many years from now, but I've just got this feeling like it's permanent.”

 

“Dude.”

 

“I know, right?”

 

They smiled at each other in silence for a few seconds.

 

“Shall we?” Garrett shook his controller in the direction of the TV.

 

“Lead on, my brother.”

 

*******

 

“Simon?”

 

“Nick?”

 

They were in Nick's basement. Abby was on her way over and Leah had gone upstairs to take a call from her mom.

 

“You and Bram...”

 

“Me and Bram?”

 

“It's good. Great, even. I'm made up for you. Both of you. I never saw it coming, but it just makes so much sense.”

 

Simon's smile was slightly disbelieving. “You think?”

 

“Yeah, man. I don't think anyone else would be good enough for you. Only the best for my best friend.”

 

“Nick, stop,” Simon demurred. “Obviously Bram is the best, to the point he's kind of out of my league.”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“You're just right together,” Nick was adamant.

 

“Well, thanks. I'm sort of nuts about him.”

 

“We noticed.”

 

Simon looked away, cheeks flaming. “I'm super gay, Nick. It's totally on you that you never caught on.”

 

Nick chuckled and got up to collect his guitar. “You might be a better actor than you give yourself credit for, Simon. Either that, or I'm just completely fucking oblivious.”

 

“Probably a bit of both. Now, play something from the '90s or later. You know classic rock makes Leah's eye twitch.”

 

*******

 

“Are you ever going to tell me anything about it? I am dying here. Dying!”

 

Abby and Simon were seated at a secluded corner table at Waffle House. Alone, at Abby's insistence. Simon knew he shouldn't have agreed to this. She had that look. Nosy as fuck.

 

“I tell you stuff all the time,” he said, a futile attempt to delay the inevitable.

 

“Simon Spier, I will slap you, I swear!” Abby's eyes flashed. “About Bram. Tell me about you and Bram.”

 

Simon shifted uncomfortably. “Bram and I... are a couple. It's going very well?” The last part came out like a question.

 

“Is it? I don't know! You don't talk about it with me. It's been months. Don't you want to talk about it?”

 

Simon supposed he did. He could talk to Bram about anything, he knew that, but it would be so nice to talk _about_ Bram, i.e. the world's most fascinating subject. It's just Bram was so private. He didn't want to overstep. It didn't hurt to ask, though.

 

“Okay. We could _maybe_ talk about this, but only if Bram says it's cool for me to discuss our personal business. Let me text him. Eat your waffle.”

 

Abby grinned and dutifully lifted her fork as Simon unlocked his phone and started typing.

 

_**Simon** : Am I allowed to talk about us with Abby? In detail? Limited detail, but you know, can I tell her stuff?_

 

Bram responded within a minute.

 

_**Bram** : Si, you are absurd. Of course you can. She's your friend, it's your life. I can't believe you're making me feel like I'm limiting your freedom of speech. That's so unconstitutional of you._

 

_**Simon** : Hey, I'm new at this. It's painfully evident that I have no idea what I'm doing. And you're private. I just wasn't sure what was and wasn't okay._

 

_**Bram** : If you want to talk about it, then it's definitely okay._

 

_**Simon** : *lovesick sighing* Have you met my boyfriend? He's the dreamiest._

 

_**Bram** : Oh, my God. Such a dork. Go talk to Abby._

 

Simon looked up from his phone with a grin. Abby, who had cleared her plate and neatly aligned her cutlery on top, was sitting with her arms folded, radiating expectancy.

 

“Bram says I'm an idiot who can talk about whatever he likes.”

 

“Bram is way smarter than you,” Abby pointed out.

 

“It has come to my attention,” Simon agreed. “So, I do want to talk about it, but I kind of don't know where to begin. Just ask me something.”

 

“Ooh.” Abby was _thrilled_. “Are you in love?”

 

“Oh, absolutely. I mean, I don't have a lot of experience with this, but I've got to assume this is what love feels like, otherwise all my favourite music has been lying to me this whole time.”

 

“Simon, that's wonderful!” Abby practically swooned. “That's just the best. And Bram so loves you. He's like that 'Heart Eyes Motherfucker' meme when you're around.”

 

“You think?” Simon broke out in a blush, ecstatic.

 

“I do. And so do you. You can't fool me. Surely you've said it?”

 

“It's been heavily implied, but have we ever said it directly? Not yet.”

 

“Well, get on that. Don't leave any room for doubt. Be bold. Say what you feel.”

 

“You're like a human self-help book, Abby. You could make money on the side in college as a motivational speaker.”

 

“I'm taking that at face value. Thank you.”

 

“I meant it.” Simon took a few contemplative bites of his food before continuing, “Do you ever feel sort of- unworthy of what you've got?”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Like, Bram is just... everything. Handsome, clever, sporty, conscientious, funny, considerate, _romantic,_ grammatical. If I didn't love him, his perfection would be enraging. And Bram is all these things, but I'm just me, so why is he wasting his time?”

 

“Simon,” Abby cooed, squeezing his wrist reassuringly. “All those things you see in Bram, he sees in you. You are so worthy. You have to know that.”

 

“Sometimes. I just get a bit paranoid that he's going to come to his senses one day and ditch me. Like I'll be forced into doing something sporty in front of him and he'll realise I'm an unco-ordinated loser.”

 

“I think he already knows you're athletically challenged and thinks it's cute. Pretty sure he thinks you're adorable no matter what you do.”

 

“He may have mentioned something of the kind,” Simon admitted shyly.

 

“There you go, then.”

 

Simon took a deep breath and regrouped. “You can ask me something else. But I reserve the right not to answer.”

 

“Fair enough,” Abby conceeded. “Are you in lust? Like, does your heart race if you look at him too long and do your fingers start tingling with the urge to touch him and does your mouth go dry when you make eye contact? Are you, as romance novelists would have it, _aflame_?”

 

“Aflame? Jesus, Abby.” A tide of blotchy red colour was rising from Simon's collar and Abby was beyond amused. She waited to see if he would actually respond.

 

“Um. Yes? Bram is...” Simon covered his face with this hands but kept talking. Abby had to lean in to catch what he was saying. “Bram is sooooo pretty, I kind of want to die. His eyes and his skin and his hands and his lips and his freakin' calves... He makes me _crazy_. Unhinged.” He looked at her through his fingers. “Boy is fire hot and I want him bad.”

 

Abby gave a gleeful little clap and bounced in her seat. “Fuck yes you do! Go, Simon! Isn't it great to say that out loud?”

 

Simon ran his hands through his hair and leaned back in his seat. “It kind of is.”

 

“Look at you, you lust-crazed beast. I'm so proud.”

 

“Weird thing to be proud of, but okay. Do- do you feel like that about Nick?”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“Huh. Please don't elaborate. Anyway, I can see where this conversation is going and there is just no way I am discussing _that_ with you in any detail. However, I'm in a good mood and I'm glad you made me do this, so I shall permit you to ask two, and only two, questions of a personal nature.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. Quickly. Before I change my mind,” Simon urged.

 

Abby was smirking. “So, have you?”

 

So was Simon. “Have I what?”

 

“You know.”

 

“I know?”

 

“You totally know.”

 

“Yeah, I totally do. And yes, we totally have.”

 

“Simon!” Abby was mildly scandalised. “I can't believe it.”

 

“I kind of can't, either. I kind of can't believe any of it, actually. That he's mine and I get to keep him.”

 

“Awww. It's nothing less than you deserve, Simon, really.”

 

“Thanks.” Simon fidgeted with his napkin. “So, you have another question. Use it wisely. But I swear to God, if you ask me who's on top-”

 

“No! No, I would never. Just this. What's it like?”

 

Simon's face looked like it was trying to express ten different emotions at once. His brows crinkled together and his eyelashes fluttered. He smiled. Then he frowned. Eventually he made a fist and bit down on it, pink to his hairline but with a wicked glint in his eye. He lowered his hand and leaned forward confidentially. “It. Is abso-fucking-lutely _amazing_.”

 

Abby nodded solemnly. “Do you have to go talk to Bram now?”

 

“I really, really do.”

 

“Go. I'll pay.”

 

*******

 

_**Simon** : Alert! Alert! Rainbow alert! Get your cute ass over here right now. And bring your toothbrush._

 

_**Bram** : I'm sorry? I've done something to upset you and my punishment is having to clean the tile grout in your bathroom? Immediately._

 

_**Simon** : If I was upset, your ass would not be cute, merely adequate. Actually, that's a lie, the gloriousness of your ass is undeniable. But I digress. I just had the most mortifying yet momentous conversation with my parents. You, Abraham Louis Greenfeld, are hereby allowed to spend the night in the bedroom of one Simon Irvin Spier, and it's totally legal and aboveboard._

 

_**Bram** : Si, you crazed fantasist. Did you just wake up from a nap where you dreamed that was true?_

 

_**Simon** : I swear to Elliott Smith, this shit is real. Ask your mom._

 

_**Bram** : My mom? I have no wish to die today, thanks._

 

_**Simon** : Bram, please, I'm serious! I finally worked up the nerve to ask if you could spend the night, and I was going to spin some utter swill about it being totally innocent and we just really wanted to 'sleep' together, and before I even had the chance they agreed! So come over. Now._

 

Simon's phone started ringing and he answered straight away.

 

“Simon, what the fuck? For real?” Bram demanded.

 

“So real,” Simon giddily replied. “They said they'd been waiting for me to ask. That if we were serious and settled enough to brave the embarrassment of asking, and that, realistically, we were probably already responsibly doing what they were supposed to be preventing us from doing, then we should probably be allowed to do it overnight. Follow the rules and we're golden.”

 

“This is unbelieveable,” Bram murmurred, properly floored. “What about my mom?”

 

“Okay, mortifying, they'd already talked to her about it. It's only cool because she agreed. Go and check. I am not hallucinating.”

 

“You better not be. Wait there, I'm going to talk to her.” Bram took a deep breath. “I can't even...”

 

“I know!” Simon trumpeted to the rustling of Bram putting his phone down. He hummed happily to himself as he spun around on his desk chair, waiting.

 

“Simon, the gay gods are smiling upon us this day,” Bram declared as he abruptly came back on the line ten minutes later. “You, my darling, are in full possession of your marbles and this shit is, indeed, real.”

 

“Would I lie to you, Blue?” Simon questioned. “Did she tell you the rules?”

 

“One weekend night only, not the whole weekend. If our grades suffer, we're done. Be considerate. Be discreet. Be safe. She went into a great deal of detail about the safe part and may have given me... safety equipment. For the time being, it's only allowed at your place, not mine. And a great deal of trust is being placed in us, so don't screw up, basically.”

 

“We can totally do that. I'm a disaster, obviously, but you're here to keep that locked down. So, can you come?”

 

“Ooh, nice double entendre. Yes and yes. I will literally be there in twenty minutes,” Bram promised. He hung up before Simon could remind him about the toothbrush.

 

Nineteen minutes later, Simon flung open the door before Bram could knock and pulled him inside and into a tight hug. Bram dropped his backpack and reciprocated, pressing fluttery kisses to Simon's cheek as Bieber danced around their feet excitedly. Bieber loved Bram.

 

“Come upstairs,” Simon said urgently, already trying to shuffle backwards while still holding on tightly.

 

“Simon,” Bram reprimanded, fighting back a smile. “Discretion. Consideration. I should at least talk to your parents first.”

 

“Fine,” Simon huffed, reluctantly letting go. “I don't have to come, do I?”

 

“What you're planning on happening is not going to happen if you don't.”

 

“Oh,” Simon blushed, scratching his nose. “Good point, well made. Okay, let's get this over with.” He grabbed Bram's hand and led him towards his parents in the kitchen.

 

An excruciating half hour later, they were finally alone in Simon's room with the door closed on a disappointed Bieber.

 

“The awkward! I have to get the awkward off me,” Simon exclaimed dramatically as he started pulling off his clothes and throwing them in the corner.

 

“Oh, my God, Si, calm down,” Bram laughed as he sat down to remove his shoes. “It was not that bad, all things considered, and we should be so fucking grateful right now. I'm going out tomorrow to buy your parents a present.”

 

“Because that's not weird at all,” Simon replied with withering sarcasm, down to his boxers and t-shirt. “'Mr. and Mrs. Spier, please accept this gift in gratitude for the opportunity to defile your son in relative comfort and privacy'.”

 

“Huh. Yeah, put like that, a little weird,” Bram conceeded, neatly folding his clothes into his bag. “But also true. I am so thankful for a chance to tap that.”

 

“Shut up,” Simon ordered as he turned the main light off and hurried Bram into his bed and under the covers. “I just want to be close and appreciate this.”

 

“Of course, of course,” Bram soothed, lying against the pillows and gathering Simon to his chest, resting his nose against the top of his head and greedily inhaling his special Simon smell. Gorgeous.

 

They breathed together in contented silence for a few minutes, everything settling and slowing around them.

 

“I can't believe we get to do this all night. I'm going to wake up tomorrow and you're going to be right here. That's astonishing,” Bram eventually said with delighted incredulity.

 

“It's pretty much the best thing to happen in the entirety of human history,” Simon responded, pressing a kiss to Bram's collarbone.

 

“Your hyperbole is adorable.”

 

“You think everything I do is adorable. Your bias is biased.”

 

“How dare you. I am so impartial when it comes to you. I'm freaking Switzerland,” Bram announced.

 

Simon tilted his head up to meet Bram's eye and raised a skeptical brow. “Oh, absolutely. You're a cuckoo clock on the wall of a ski chalet buried in an avalanche, Abraham.”

 

Bram just beamed and kissed him.

 

“Mmmm,” Simon exhaled as they broke for air. “That's nice.”

 

“Very.” Bram slid his hand under Simon's t-shirt and began stroking the warm, soft skin of his back. Simon ran his fingers through Bram's hair in return.

 

“Bram?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I liked talking about you with Abby the other week. I don't know why I hadn't done it before. You are my favourite subject.”

 

“You're mine, too. It's you, then English.”

 

“Nerd,” Simon accused on a breath of laughter. “Are we going to have sex now?”

 

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

 

“One thing first.” Simon sat up and moved to straddle Bram's lap. He cupped his hands around his shoulders and looked at him seriously, with everything he'd ever felt but never said in his bright gaze. “I love you. You're the entire universe and I can't even imagine ever loving anyone else. You're it for me. My person.”

 

“Simon,” Bram sighed, touching his cheek with feather light fingers.

 

“I should've told you sooner, but it was so big, you know? I had to learn how to carry it.”

 

“We can share the burden. God knows the weight of my love has overwhelmed me from time to time.”

 

“So it's mutual?”

 

“Simon, I am reciprocating so hard right now,” Bram said in disbelief, dashing away the tears pooling in his eyes. “I love you. I have plans to love you from now until the end of time itself.”

 

“Now who's adorably hyperbolic?” Simon sniffed.

 

“Shush. I found you and you found me and that's it. We're vomitously in love for life, circumstances permitting.”

 

“They better fucking permit,” Simon muttered, hugging Bram with desperate, possessive fondness. “I love you.”

 

Bram was smiling so hard his jaw was starting to ache. “I know.”

 

“That's peachy, Han. Everyone know's who held the reins in that relationship. Just call me General Organa.”

 

“We can discuss pet names later. That's a tad esoteric.”

 

“Ugh,” Simon groaned, playfully biting at Bram's neck. “It's ridiculously hot when you use big, fancy words.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay, what about this? Li-cen-tious-ness.” Bram sounded out every syllable as he grabbed Simon's ass with both hands and pulled their hips together.

 

“Oh, that's good. Sounds so naughty,” Simon gasped as he leaned back to pull off his t-shirt and then scrabbled to remove Bram's. “Keep going.”

 

“Pen-e-tra-tion,” Bram giggled as he plastered kisses across Simon's chest.

 

“Bram, my love, talk dirty to me.”

 

“Anything for you, Simon. And I do mean _anything_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The only thing I like about writing is dialogue. And sorry for the unrealistically complete texts. That's how I do it and it physically pains me to do otherwise. Also, I'd appreciate it if someone could explain to me why I am so obsessed with this universe. Me, allegedly a fully-formed adult, and a straight one at that, usually a stone cold bitch with a shard of ice where my heart should be. I'm all, like, gooey and shit over Simon and Bram. It's so confusing. Anyway, epic love to Becky Albertalli for all the 'feelings'. Girl knows what she's doing.


End file.
